Chapter 15
At last! They were reunited. They forgot about their
deprivations, their miserable present, the menacing future
that awaited them, the terrible ordeals struck by fate time
after time. They forgot themselves in this common
embracement that united them to Harry Clifton. What tears of
joy! Mrs. Clifton recovered. She sank to her knees near the
boat and thanked God.
According to Belle's almanac, today was Sunday, May 1, a
day for thanksgiving. The entire family passed it at the
patient's bedside. Harry Clifton felt better. The attention
that Flip had given him, this bit of nourishment he had
already been able to take, the hope, the joy, everything
contributed to restore his lost strength. He was still very
weak but alive, very much alive, as Flip had told young Marc.
Harry Clifton was not able to walk from the boat to the
grotto. Flip and two of the children carried him on a
stretcher of branches. On each side, Belle and Jack held
their father's hand. Mrs. Clifton prepared a bed of grass
and moss in the best corner of the grotto. Harry Clifton was
placed there. Tired from the trip and the emotion, he soon
fell asleep. Flip considered this a good thing.
"I am a bit of a doctor," he told Mrs. Clifton, "or at
least I have often treated sick people. I know about this.
This sleep is good, very good! As to the engineer's wound,
It's a trifle. We will take care of it until he gets better.
But I repeat, Madam, this wound is a joke. As for myself, I
once had my head scratched between two vessels at the wharf
in Liverpool. Does it show? No. And since this accident, I
no longer have headaches. You see, Mrs. Clifton, if one
doesn't die from a headwound in three days, his recovery is
assured."
Flip betrayed his pleasure by babbling on, all the while
laughing and smiling. During Harry Clifton's sleep, he told
the children and their mother all that occurred since the
previous day, his exploration of the north shore, the
crossing of the marsh, Fido's appearance, who deserved all
the credit for the affair because Fido had recognized Flip
but Flip, "imbecile, rattlehead," had not recognized Fido.
If the loyal dog was praised and caressed, it was
painful to look at him. The day before Marc had killed a
canard during a visit to the shores of the lake and he
offered the canard to the intelligent Newfoundland animal.
He made a meal of it, which prompted Jack to say:
"Good dog! That you are satisfied with raw meat!"
As to Mr. Clifton's story, how he escaped from the
Vancouver, how he came here, Flip was still ignorant about it
and he could say nothing.
"And that is fortunate," he added, "because we will give
the brave gentleman the pleasure of telling us himself about
his adventures."
However, they must think about Harry Clifton. If only,
on his wakening, they could offer him a few cups of warm
soup! They must not think of that. Instead of this
comforting soup, Flip thought of preparing some fresh
oysters, a real dish for an invalid, which a weak stomach
could easily digest. Mrs. Clifton was put in charge of
choosing the best of these mollusks from the oyster bed.
All this while, Flip searched the boat for anything
Harry Clifton may have had with him, precious objects if ever
they were. He found a knife with several blades and a saw,
which could replace Flip's knife, and an ax the skilful
sailor would appreciate and which would become his most
useful tool. There was also a pistol, unfortunately
unloaded, without a single grain of powder in it so they
could make no fire from that. Of the three objects, it was
the least useful, although Robert could amuse himself with it
by bellicosely brandishing it.
They then waited for Harry Clifton to wake up. Around
eleven o'clock, the engineer called for his wife and his
children. Everyone ran to him. His tranquil sleep had
strengthened him. The healing of the wound was already in an
advanced stage and Mrs. Clifton and Flip soon dressed it.
Mrs. Clifton then offered her husband some oysters.
They were so appetizing that he ate them with extreme
pleasure. Poor woman. Her provision of meat and biscuit was
exhausted and she trembled at the thought that her dear
patient might ask for a little of this food that she no
longer had. But this time, at least, the oysters were
sufficient. His voice came back. He called everyone by
name. A little color reappeared to his pale hollow cheeks.
He was even able, with pauses between each phrase, to tell
what had happened after the mutiny on the Vancouver.
After the death of Captain Harrison, the vessel turned
south. The second in command had taken over. Clifton was a
prisoner in his cabin and could speak to no one. He thought
of his wife and his children abandoned on the ocean. What
would become of them? As for himself, there was no doubt
about his fate. These madmen would put him to death.
A few days passed and, as often happens when a vessel
finds itself under these conditions, the Kanakas who were
inspired to revolt against Captain Harrison by the second
mate, in turn revolted against him. This wretch provoked
them with his cruelty. The second mate was a rouge of the
worst kind.
Three weeks after the initial revolt, the Vancouver
turned back north. It was held in place by a calm wind.
They sighted the northern shore of none other than this very
land. However, they did not see the part already explored by
Flip.
In the afternoon of April 24th, Harry Clifton, who was
continually locked in his cabin, heard a commotion on the
bridge mixed with shouting. He understood that there was a
crisis. Perhaps this was a chance to break free. They would
not be watching him so carefully and he might profit from it.
He forced open the door to his cabin. He ran to the mess
hall, grabbed a loaded pistol from the arms rack and a
boarding ax. He then ran to the bridge. Fido was with him.
The revolt between the Kanakas and the crew was
fearsome. When Clifton appeared on the bridge it became
bloody. The howling crowd of Kanakas, armed with picks and
axes, surrounded the crew. Soon the second mate was stained
in blood and mortally wounded.
Clifton understood the new situation. The Kanakas would
kill him in a moment. He saw a shore two miles windward. He
resolved to risk his life to reach it. He ran to the
bulwarks in order to throw himself into the sea.
But they saw Harry Clifton. Two of the mutineers ran
toward him. He stopped one of them with a pistol shot.
However, the other struck him on the head with a crow-bar
which he could not avoid. He fell overboard. The cold water
revived him. When he returned to the surface and opened his
eyes, he saw that the Vancouver was already several cables in
the distance. He heard a barking. It was Fido. The
vigorous Newfounlander swam to his side and he was able to
hold on to the animal.
The tide carried him to land but it was a large distance
to cover. Harry Clifton was wounded and exhausted. Twenty
times he sank beneath the waters but twenty times his
faithful companion held him above the waves. The currant
moved Clifton along and after a long battle he finally felt
solid ground beneath his feet. With Fido's help, he
struggled out of the wave's reach and dragged himself to the
dunes. Here he would have died of hunger if Flip, guided by
the dog, had not found him.
Harry Clifton ended his story and shook Flip's hand.
"When did you leave the Vancouver and its cargo of
rascals?" the sailor asked him.
"The 23rd of April, my friend."
"Good!" Flip replied. "Since today is the first of May,
it was eight days you were lying on the dunes awaiting death.
And at first I was fearful. What a brute I am."
However, after he finished his story, after he received
the caresses of his wife and children one more time, be asked
for some warm soup.
Everyone looked at him. Mrs. Clifton grew pale. Must
they tell the patient of their privations? Flip felt this
was not the time to make this confession. Silently, he
signaled Mrs. Clifton. With hesitation, he responded to the
engineer.
"Good, sir," he said in a happy voice, "warm soup. Yes,
very good, very good! Capybara soup. for example. We will
make it for you. But at the moment the fire is extinct.
While we were chatting I foolishly let the flame die out.
But I will soon light it."
And Flip left the grotto followed by Mrs. Clifton.
"No, Madam," he said to her in a whisper. "No, we still
must not tell him about it. Tomorrow! Later!"
"But what if he asks about the warm soup that you
promised him?"
"Yes! I understand that! It is very embarrassing. But
we must have more time. Perhaps he will forget about it.
Hold on. Distract him. Tell him about what happened to us."
Mrs. Clifton and Flip returned to the grotto.
"Well, Mister engineer, how are you feeling," the sailor
asked him. Better, no doubt. If you are strong enough to
listen to us, Mrs. Clifton will tell you about our
adventures. She saved the family. You will see that."
On a sign from her husband, Mrs. Clifton began her
story. In detail she told of their separation from the
Vancouver in the boat, the arrival at the mouth of the river,
their first encampment under the overturned boat, the
excursion into the forest, the exploration of the cliff and
the shore, the discovery of the lake and the grotto, the
hunting and the fishing. She did not forget to tell about
the broken knife but she did not say a word about the storm
and the extinguished fire. Then she spoke about their
children, their devotion and their courage. They were worthy
of their father. Finally, in tearful gratitude, she praised
Flip and his sacrifices. The excellent man blushed, not
knowing where to hide.
Harry Clifton rose up a bit, placed his two hands on
Flip's shoulders, seating him near his bed.
"Flip," he said to him with a vivid emotion, "you saved
my wife and children, you even saved me! Bless you, Flip!"
"Not at all, Mister engineer," replied the sailor, "it
is nothing to speak of... it just turned out that way... You
are a decent man..."
Then, whispering to Mrs. Clifton:
"Continue, Madam, continue. He is forgetting about the
soup!"
He then spoke to Harry Clifton again.
"Besides," he replied, "much is still to be done. We
are waiting for you. I will do nothing without your orders.
I needed an ax and a knife to replace my broken knife and you
were kind enough to provide me with one. Isn't that true,
Mister Marc?"
"Yes, Flip," the young lad replied with a smile.
"Those are charming children you have there, Mister
Clifton. A worthy, lovable family! Mister Robert is a
little impatient but he will quiet down. Believe me, with
these fine lads and with you, an engineer, we will do many
things here."
"Especially if you help us, friend Flip," Mr. Clifton
replied.
"Yes, father," Marc shouted. "Our friend Flip can do
everything. He is a sailor, fisherman, hunter, carpenter,
blacksmith..."
"Oh! Mister Marc!" Flip replied. "That is not an
exaggeration. As a sailor I can do a little of everything
but badly, very badly. I do not have ideas. I need
supervision. But Mister Clifton has that, I... We will be
very happy here!"
"Very happy," Harry Clifton said, looking at his wife.
"Yes, my dear Harry," Mrs. Clifton replied. "I have
nothing to wish for since you were returned to me. Well,
perhaps! But in any case, we have no parents or friends to
depend on. We would return to our country as strangers!
Yes! I agree with our friend Flip. We could live happily in
this corner of the world counting on what the infallible
Almighty has in store for us!"
Harry Clifton pressed his dear wife to his heart. She
was so confidant and strong. His strength would return in
this small world where he would focus all his affections.
"Yes," he said, "Yes! We can still be happy. But tell
me, friend Flip, does this land seem to be a continent or an
island?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," Flip said, preferring to carry
on the conversation in this tone of voice, "but this is a
question we still have not been able to resolve."
"It is important, however."
"Very important, in fact. But daylight will last longer
now. As soon as your strength returns, Mister Clifton, we
will explore our new domain and we will know if we have the
right or not to qualify as islanders!"
"If this land is only an island," Harry Clifton replied,
"we have little hope of ever leaving it, because ships hardly
ever frequent this portion of the Pacific!"
"In fact, sir," the sailor replied, "in this situation
we must rely only on ourselves and if we ever do leave it, it
will only be because we ourselves have furnished the means of
leaving it."
"By making a ship!" Robert shouted.
"Hey, hey!" Flip replied, rubbing his hands, "we have a
boat, which is already something."
"My children," Harry Clifton said, "before looking for a
way to leave the island, if it is one, we must first settle
in. Later we will see what is best to do. But tell me,
Flip, you have doubtless explored the immediate countryside.
What do you think?"
"Much of it is good, Mister engineer. It is, without
doubt, a charming land and especially very varied. In the
north, where you were waiting for me, there is a vast marsh
swarming with aquatic birds. This will be an excellent
preserve for our young hunters.
"Yes, my boy, a marsh made just for you, but you need
not get all soiled up there. In the south, sir, in an arid,
savage region of rocks and dunes, there is a bank of oysters,
good oysters like the ones you just ate, an inexhaustible
bank. Then, beyond the shore, there are verdant prairies,
magnificent forests, trees of every species, and coconut
trees. I am not fooling you. We have real coconut trees.
Mister Robert, if it will not trouble you, pick a coconut for
your father, a coconut not too hard, you hear me, so it has
the best milk!"
Robert left on the run. Harry Clifton, listening to the
sailor's happy blabbing, did not think of asking about his
warm soup. Flip, enchanted, continued with renewed ardor.
"Yes, mister engineer, these forests must be immense,
and we have seen only a small part of it. Mister Robert has
already killed a charming capybara! And then, but I really
forgot, we also have a warren filled with excellent rabbits!
We have a very agreeable islet that we have not yet had the
time to visit! We have a lake, sir, not a pond, a real
lake, with beautiful water and delicate fish that have no
desire other than to be caught!"
Hearing this recital, Harry Clifton could not conceal a
smile. Mrs. Clifton, with tearful eyes, looked at the good
Flip and Belle and Jack could not take their eyes off him.
Never had it occurred to them that their domain could provoke
such enthusiastic descriptions.
"And the mountain," Jack said.
"Yes, the mountain," Flip continued. "The young man is
right. I forgot about the mountain with its snow at the
peak. A real peak, not a little sugar loaf. No, a high
peak, six thousand feet high at least which we will climb one
day! Truly, whether this land is a continent or an island,
we could not have chosen a better one!"
At this moment, Robert returned, carrying a fresh
coconut. Flip poured the milk into a bamboo cup and the
patient drank this refreshing liquor with extreme pleasure.
For another hour Flip continued to charm his audience
with a picture of the countryside, the incontestable
advantages it presented, telling the engineer about the
projects that could be easily completed, what you would do if
you imigrated to your favorite land.
"We will be the Robinsons of the Pacific!" Marc said.
"Good!" said Jack. I have always dreamed of living on
an island with the Swiss Family Robinson!"
"Well, Mister Jack, you have been given your wish!"
Flip forgot that in this imaginary tale the author
placed all of industry and nature at the disposal of the
castaways. He chose for them a particular island where there
was no fear of the rigors of a winter climate. Each day,
little by little, they found the vegetables and the animals
they needed without looking for it. They already had arms,
tools, powder, and clothes. They had a cow, sheep, a donkey,
and pigs. Their stranded vessel furnished them with an
oversupply of wood, iron, and grain of every kind. No! That
situation could not be the same! The Swiss castaways were
millionaires! Here were unfortunates, reduced to complete
destitution, who must make everything they needed.
But Harry Clifton could not deceive himself. He kept
thoughts to himself that differed with Flip's ideas. He
confined himself to asking the good sailor if there was
anything he really regretted.
"Nothing, Mister Clifton, nothing!" Flip replied. "I do
not have a family. I was even an orphan, I believe, before
coming into the world!"
With that, Flip began to talk again. He told Mr. and
Mrs. Cliton that he was a Frenchman by birth, a Picardian
from Marquenterre but really americanized. He had travelled
the entire world over land and sea. Having seen everything,
nothing could astonish him. He had experienced all the
accidents and adventures that could befall a human being.
If, at any time, they wanted to sink into despair they must
not count on him.
Hearing Flip speak this way with a sincere clear voice,
seeing his reassuring gestures with his body full of health
and energy, would bring a dying person back to life.
If Harry Clifton did not have the enchanted island of
the Swiss Robinsons, he at least had the faithful devoted
Flip. It would not be long before they would explore this
unknown land and colonize it.
But at the moment, overcome by fatigue, he felt the need
to sleep. Mrs. Clifton asked her children to let their
father sleep.
They were leaving the grotto when Belle stopped short.
"Let's see, Mister Flip," she said. "We can no longer
call you 'Papa Flip' since you found our father."
"Papa Flip," Harry Clifton murmurred with a smile.
"Yes sir, pardon me," said the sailor. "This charming
lady and Mister Jack are already in the habit of calling me
papa, but now..."
"Well now," Jack replied, "papa Flip will become our
uncle!"
"Yes! Uncle Robinson!" Belle said, clapping her hands.
Everyone agreed and gave "Uncle Robinson" three hurrahs.